


Stranger Experiences

by BlueM0nd4y, Lumina_Solaris



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Billy Hargrove Has Powers, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Drugs, F/F, Gay Billy Hargrove, Good Friend Robin Buckley, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mentor Robin Buckley, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Punk Rock, Rating May Change, Sexual Tension, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueM0nd4y/pseuds/BlueM0nd4y, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumina_Solaris/pseuds/Lumina_Solaris
Summary: There have been a lot of changes in Billy Hargrove's life, lately, and he's not sure that he likes all of them.Following the battle of Starcourt, Billy wakes up at the Byers' house, only to be told that he's been passed out for two days. There's still something distinctly wrong with Billy, even if he can't place it, and Steve Harrington seems to have decided that it's his job to rifle around in Billy's business. And, with Steve Harrington comes the cluster of screaming children that seem to follow him like ducklings.Great.Warning: awkward flirting, macho bullshit, teenagers being teenagers, Billy being a mess, Steve overthinking about everything.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	1. Children of the grave

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo! 
> 
> This is the improved version of my fic 'Strange Pleasures', edited and partially rewrite by Lumina_Solaris! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

"She was pretty. She was really pretty."

El gently caresses Billy’s cheek, a gesture that looks odd on Billy Hargrove. He nods, and a lone tear drops on the girl. "And you… you were happy," she continues, her voice full of soft kindness. They stare at each other for a brief, intense moment, a look that contains a lot of unspoken truth and shared traumas. It’s enough to bring Billy back to himself again. The connection between them is strong and solid. He let her know about him, his past, his pain. She saw him like no one else ever did.

A sudden surge of protectiveness rises in Billy’s chest. He has spent most of his miserable life thinking about himself over others in some twisted form of self-preservation, and all it did was make him an asshole. But he knows what to do, now. For once in his life, he feels the need to take care of someone else, even if it means that he will have to be vulnerable.

He stands in front of the monster, full of determination, and there's a bubbling sense of pride building in him at what he intends to do. He can’t feel anything but adrenaline, a pulsing thrum of anticipation that makes his nerves feel jittery and overcharged. He clenches his jaw and his fists and stares at the huge mass of flesh and sinew, and the fear that he knows he should be feeling just isn't there. The monster makes a long, horrible screech, and Billy knows, viscerally, that it is about to attack. The connection between him and the beast is still there, but he's not scared anymore. Now, he has control.

El looks at him with wide eyes, terrified. She clumsily retreats, shuffling backwards in alarm. Billy, promptly planting his feet, addresses the horrible creature. His loud voice resonates through the atrium.

"BACK. OFF."

And the beast retreats, slightly. It looks like it’s trying to attack them, but something - something that it can't overpower - is holding it back. Billy takes a step forward.

"I SAID BACK OFF!" he shouts, and he’s trembling, his body full of rage and nervous energy. This time, the Mind Flayer does what has been ordered, with a loud, metallic screech. Blood starts dripping from Billy’s nose, and he watches as the beast thrashes around haltingly, attempting to dislodge whatever invisible force is blocking its movements.

From the stands, Dustin, Will, Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan are all watching the scene, awestruck and simultaneously bewildered.

"Holy fucking shit…" breathes Dustin in a hushed tone. 

"What the hell… what is he doing?" asks Steve, eyes wide and alarmed.

The beast starts screeching louder, and Billy raises a hand toward it, blood now dripping from both of his nostrils.

Nancy is the first one to recollect herself as common sense kicks in. Whatever Billy is doing to the beast, it is clear that he won't be able to keep it up forever. The boy is shaking and looks like he is on the verge of collapse. It looks like it takes a lot of energy, keeping the gigantic monster steady.

"Guys! Now!" she shouts, and it seems to break the others out of their stupor.

They all scramble for their designated fireworks. It’s an explosion of outbursts and light, and Billy realizes that he can finally let go of his intangible hold on the creature. He collapses to the ground, his breathing erratic, and his eyesight swims as he tries desperately to get enough oxygen. Gentle hands grab his shoulders, but he is too tired to look to see whose hands they are. His thoughts are sluggish, and the loud bangs and the flashing lights are not helping him to reorient his muffled thoughts. He thinks that he hears a voice, soothing, but he doesn’t know what the voice is telling him. He can’t hear; he can’t see. He slowly closes his eyes, and suddenly there is just blackness and silence.

* * *

"Holy shit! Is he dead?" Dustin yells at the sight of the unconscious boy in Max’s arm. At this, she tightens her grip even more, strangely protective towards her jerk of a step-brother.

"He’s breathing, asshole." She brushes a blond curl away from his face. The expression on Billy's usually-irate visage is… strange. Like that, he looks oddly calm, almost placid. 

Steve sighs, his hands on his hips like an angry mother. He looks around, pensive. "So is it finished? Is that thing gone once and for all?" 

El nods, still sitting on the dirty floor, cuddled up to Mike's side. "The gate is closed. No more Mind Flayer."

Steve points a finger to the sleeping figure of Billy, with an eyebrow raised in a rather daft and perplexed expression. "What about Hargrove? Is he still flayed or something? Shouldn’t we… I dunno, tie him up or something?" 

At this proposition, Robin slowly turns her head toward the brunet, giving him a glare that very clearly displays her unimpressed incredulity.

Dustin, of course, catches sight of it and immediately puffs up, defensive. "Steve is right," he snaps to Robin. "The guy is dangerous. Even without the Mind Flayer, he’s still a sociopath." 

At this, Max scoffs. "He’s not going to hurt anybody. At least, not anymore." She hesitates slightly. "I'm pretty sure. Besides, he’s, like, fainted or something. See?" As if to prove her point, she lifts Billy’s arm and drops it. His forearm hits the floor, and there’s no sign of life or reaction in Billy’s face.

Still, Mike is frowning, eyebrows creased in consternation. "He tried to kill my girlfriend," he reminds them. "We should drop him by the quarry now that he won't put up a fight." 

The declaration is met with another glare from Robin. "Yeah, that's a great idea. We'll just kill him while he’s asleep. Very noble of you."

"It’s not like he’s any better," states Lucas, disgusted. 

Reflexively, Max tightens her hold on her step-brother's shoulders, annoyed. "Don’t you dare!" she snaps, training a glare upon Lucas. "He’s an asshole, but he’s my brother!"

"Step-brother!" corrects Lucas, his voice pitched higher than usual, like this change of wording spells the doom of his relationship. The rest of the cluster breaks out into shouting, and the cacophony sends a lance of pain through Steve's skull.

"Everybody, shut the hell up!" he interrupts in an authoritarian tone, and the kids actually stop their uproarious bickering. "Nobody is gonna kill anybody." There is an underlying thread of exhaustion creeping into his tone, yet it doesn't detract from the level of authority he is projecting. "We just… take him with us to the Byers’ place and figure it out from there. End of discussion!"

He looks around the group, and the others mumble a bit under their breaths, but they don't actually protest to Steve directly.

Robin sends Steve a look, her eyebrows raised at him. "Damn, dingus. Activate mother-mode often, do you?"

"Shut up," spits Steve, flushing slightly. "Just help me move this grade-A dick here." 

After a failed attempt that makes the unconscious boy fall on the cold ground, Steve manages to get a secure hold on Billy's shoulders. Steve's pretty sure that he heard a dangerous thump produced by the collision of Billy’s cranium to the floor, but he really doesn’t give a shit at the moment. Jonathan and Robin grab the boy’s ankles, and they start to clumsily move him towards the exit of the mall.

"God, he’s heavy," Steve laments. 

"Yeah, no shit, dingus."

* * *

In the beginning, Billy thinks he must have gotten absolutely trashed the previous night. He can’t remember anything, and his head is aching, pounding unrelentingly. He feels sick, like he is genuinely about to throw up, and every single fiber of his body is protesting any attempts at movement. He blinks open his eyes, but his eyesight is blurry, and his senses are being bombarded by dizziness and confusion. He’s in a bed, definitely, but it doesn’t look like a hospital. He’s in a room, but he can’t recognize whose.

He tries to get up, but a sharp pain keeps him anchored to his spot. What the fuck happened? Did he sleep with someone? As his eyesight begins to clear, he looks around at the horrendous wallpaper and wants to sneer. Definitely the style of someone older than him, probably middle-aged. A thought strikes him, and, holy shit, did he actually manage to fuck Mrs. Wheeler? For a second, he lets the thought buoy him, but then he takes a closer look at the room around him, and he can't picture Karen Wheeler here - it’s shabby and badly furnished. It looks like a lower-class person's room, like their very own shithole house there in Hawkins. Billy is pretty sure that Mrs. Wheeler is more fashionable than that. Besides, his head is really spinning, and the aching certainly hasn't subsided. This wasn't like any kind of hangover he had experienced before. 

Through the pain, he tries to recall how he ended up in this state. Did he get into drugs again, or something? Back in Cali, he used to snort coke and drop acid every once in a while, but he had lost the habit upon arriving in this shithole town. Honestly, with the way people acted around here, it was a miracle that anyone even knew that weed existed.

He tries again to get up and ends up groaning in pain. This time, he manages to get into a prone position. Then, the door opens with a bang, and a gang of thirteen years old rush towards him, screaming, and the next thing Billy knows, Lucas Sinclair is aiming a slingshot at his face. "Are you the Mind Flayer?!" he demands. 

Mike elbows him, scoffing. "Dude, do you think the Mind Flayer would declare itself like that?! Are you fuckin' stupid?!"

"Mike has a point," Dustin agrees, pointing a can of Ferrah Fawcett hairspray in Billy’s face. "He likes to hide."

"I can’t feel him…" Will weakly tries, but he is ignored by his friends, who seem more preoccupied with yelling at each other.

Billy stops listening to them immediately. He looks at Max, who is staring at him, a worried expression on her freckled face.

"Maxine. Make them shut up, or I swear I will kill them, drink from their fuckin skulls and then dance on their fuckin graves." Despite the threat, his voice comes out strangely collected.

Max nods, then turns towards her friends. "SILENCE, SHITBIRDS!"

Everyone stops their arguing instantly. Max looks at Billy again, visibly concerned. "How are you?" she asks in a softer tone.

Billy scoffs. "Why the fuck do you care?!" But then, a foreign sense of guilt pervades him, and he shifts his gaze, staring determinately at the ugly wallpaper, not making eye contact. "…like shit. Head hurts like fuck." He clenches his jaw, and when he hears a shuffling from the direction of the younger teens, he glances over at them before turning his attention back to his step-sister. Because he’s too pained to move anything else, he gestures with a sharp nod of his head to the cluster of nerds hovering just inside the doorway to the room. "What are they doing here? Where even am I?"

Max looks behind her, at her friends, then sighs. "The Byers'," she says simply.

Billy's eye twitches. "The Byers'?" he snaps, and he is almost immediately hit by a sudden wave of pain. What the hell? Why is he so broken?! He has never, in his entire life, felt like this. It made Neil's beatings feel like a light slap on the wrist in comparison.

Max clambers closer to him when she catches sight of his sudden stillness, and she gently pushes him down with a hand on his chest. "You were out for two days, Billy," she explains. "You've been sleeping this whole time."

Billy's mind catches on that last bit of information, but he can't seem to actually make any sense of it. "What… what happened?"

The nerd herd share some loaded glances before Mike clears his throat a little and speaks up. "Um. Yeah. You were Flayed."

Billy narrows his eyes. "What the fuck did you just say about me?"

Dustin seems to take this as his cue, and slowly, like he’s talking to a first grader, he says, "You," at this, he points at Billy, "were flayed."

Billy simply sneers at the kid. "Am I supposed to know what the fuck that means?"

Dustin just sighs. "So, that thing at the mall - you know, that giant flesh monster? That's the Mind Flayer. It was controlling you, and you were its meat puppet."

Billy snorts, irritated. "Is this some kind of prank? Listen, I don’t speak loser, so you're gonna have to do better than that."

Max speaks quietly. She looks pensive and a bit worried. "You don’t… remember, Billy?" 

Billy narrows his eyes at her. "Remember what?!" he snaps, clearly growing more irritated by the second. "No I don’t, Maxine. I just remember driving, that I was about to fuck Karen Wheeler, and then I hit something with the Camaro."

At this, all of the color drains out of Mike's face before he suddenly looks furious. "YOU WHAT?!"

Billy looks at him, impassive. Now that he thinks about it, he does vaguely recall the kid being Mrs. Wheeler's son, but he doesn’t give a flying fuck. 

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Mike roars, and he starts to lunge toward Billy, but Dustin and Lucas both grab him, holding him back. 

Despite the pain he’s feeling, Billy manages to grin lasciviously. "Oh, I’m sorry, Wheeler. Did I just ruin your perfect picture of your family? Sure your mom needs someone that can give her what your old man can’t."

Mike squirms even more, his face now flushed bright red with rage. "HOLY SHIT! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU! LET ME GO! I GOTTA - MAX, LET ME KILL HIM!" 

Max scoffs. "Chill out, Mike. He’s just messing with you. All you're doing is giving him exactly what he wants, so stop with the theatrics." At these words, Mike starts to compose himself. With a loud groan, he shakes off Lucas and Dustin’s grip, then he stalks to the exit of the room. "He’s awake for like, what, one minute? And I just can’t stand him anymore. I’m out. Good luck with finding out if he’s still flayed." With that, he leaves the room, under the apprehensive looks of his friends.

Billy huffs. "That kid’s a dramatic bitch." 

Max glares at him. "And you’re an asshole," she counters, flatly. "So, what about after the incident? Do you remember anything? Anything, or anyone… like Heather?"

This time, Max’s words seem to hit a nerve within Billy, somehow. His expression twists further.  
Heather. He remembers. The memories are just flashes, fleeting, but he does remember. How he kidnapped her and brought her to the Shadow. The Shadow told him to do so, and he did it.  
A sudden wave of anxiety hits him. What the fuck did he do? Something really, really fucked up. Something way beyond destroying Harrington’s face or fucking a couple of desperate housewives.

He swallows. He doesn’t want to show them his fear, his raising unease. So, with all the force he can muster, he tries to maintain an expressionless poker face, and he stares right into Max’s deep blue eyes.

"Nope."

"He’s lying!" Lucas snaps immediately. "He’s still flayed! Max, he’s dangerous!"

The redhead ignores her boyfriend, still keeping eye contact with Billy, in the attempt to read her fucked up stepbrother. "Do you remember what happened at Starcourt?"

Billy gasps. Starcourt. El. The Shadow. Him, telling the Shadow what to do. The Shadow, obeying him. That was beyond fucked up. Then, he manages to disguise his emotions again, even if his distress is now all too apparent.

So he snaps. He's angry, defensive. He feels trapped and exposed. Trapped by nosy teenagers. And that's so fucking low, it's disgusting.

"What the fuck happened in Starcourt?!" he sneers. "Did you piss your panties?! Jesus, Max, you’re really pissing me off here. You can fuck off with this third grade bullshit, for god’s sake. I don't have anything to say to you."

This time, Max gets angry too; her patience has reached its limit. "You’re lying!" she exclaims, tossing her hands out into the air in frustration. "We’re trying to help you, here, asshole! Why do you always have to be like this?!"

"Like WHAT?!"

"Like… like YOU!" She's breathing heavily at this point, clearly worked up. "After all that just happened! You were controlled, Billy! You were manipulated by a gigantic, creepy monster! You kidnapped people! You fucking tried to strangle El!"

Billy is mute. He really doesn’t know what to say. That sense of guilt is starting to clench at his chest again, making his throat constrict. He feels the heat behind his eyes that usually prefaces tears, and he tries to rein in his emotions. He can't give up. He can’t break now.

"Do you even understand the situation?! For once, could you stop being so stubborn?!" Max continues, and though she is still fairly worked up, she's slightly calmer this time. Dustin, Lucas, and Will are simply staring at them, speechless and worried.

After a moment of silence that feels like an eternity, Billy shakes his head slightly, mindful of the pain still thrumming throughout his body. "You’re a crazy bitch," he spits, venomously.

Max exhales the loudest groan she can manage and rolls her eyes at him. "FINE THEN! Fuck you, Billy!"

"NO." Billy feels rage. Rage is good. He can deal with that. He stiffly straightens as much as he can, given his circumstances. "FUCK YOU, Maxine."

They stare at each other with pure, intense hate. Then, the sound of the door opening again grabs their attention. Steve Harrington is planted by the doorjamb. His face looks like shit, like he's been beaten. Billy can’t help but notice how stupid he looks, with that pissed expression on his pretty yet bruised face and his stupid pink preppy polo shirt and his stupid perfect hair and his stupid… everything. God. He hates him so much.

"No, fuck you both, guys. You’re loud. I was trying to sleep." Harrington sighs, and it's like he wasn't even part of the situation, like he's somehow above it all, and just… fuck that.

Billy manages to make an ugly laugh that causes him to seize up with pain. "Harrington? What the fuck are you doing here? Still creeping around my kid sister, are you? Fuckin perve."

The brunet scoffs, annoyed. "God, Hargrove, could you be more of a cliché?" 

And, shit. Somehow, that stings. 

Harrington just looks at the kids. "Guys, why don’t you leave this to us?" 

The four of them nod. "He’s all yours, Steve. I’m tired of his bullshit," declares Max, heavily. She walks away, turning her back to Billy, who snaps at her, irritated. 

"Hey! Where the fuck are you going?! We’re finished when I say we’re finished, Maxine!" His sister just responds with a middle finger. God! The fucking nerve of her, lately. Billy groans, and the kids leave him with Steve fucking Harrington, who approaches him by the side of the bed, with an unreadable expression on his face. Billy stares at him, keeping eye contact like it's a challenge. Harrington looks concentrated and slightly disgusted.

 _He is disgusted_ , Billy thinks. Steve Harrington is fucking disgusted by him. Well, he can deal with that. It's not like that's anything new.

"She’s really trying to help you, man. You shouldn’t be like that," Harrington states after a while. 

Billy rolls his eyes. "Oh, I’m touched. Let me just pour out my heart to her, and we can talk about my feelings all night. Maybe we'll have a fuckin sleepover, too?"

"Yeah, yeah. Original, Hargrove." Steve continues to stare at Billy. Billy stares right back, and Steve shuffles slightly under his scrutiny, holding the eye contact.

"You look like shit," Billy observes, staring at the purple bruises around Steve’s eye. "You really can’t take a fight, Harrington. Who beat you this time?"

"None of your business, Hargrove." 

"Oh, but I think it is, Princess. See, I think I'd like to offer a beer to the guy."

Steve just smirks, totally unaffected by the other boy’s manners. 

God, this is boring! Billy is itching for a fight. At least, a verbal one. He can’t deal with the amount of anxiety that is quietly writhing in his gut; he needs a distraction, and Steve Harrington is the perfect candidate for that.

"Why am I here again?" Billy asks after a while. He really didn’t understand any of that shit that those brats were spouting. Not that he had been paying a ton of attention to the details…

"We brought you here," Steve supplies, giving Billy a weird look. "You were unconscious, after you… I dunno, talked to the Mind Flayer? Ordered it around?"

Billy makes sure to stare at Steve blankly. "What kind of fucked-up horseshit are you babbling on about, Harrington? Those kids hit you hard in the head with their D&D bullshit?" Billy asked, acting like everything Steve was saying was foreign to him. He had an idea, though. A vague yet nonetheless disturbing idea. He remembered that monster. He couldn’t forget the shadow that had been terrorizing him for days.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Harrington sighs, rolling his eyes. "How are you feeling?" he asks then. 

Billy raises an eyebrow, surprised. "Aww, are you worried about me? What, do you want to adopt me like your bunch of nerd children?" 

Now, Harrington is starting to look annoyed. Billy decides that he can push it further. "What?" he prompts,"Are you getting tired of babysitting thirteen year olds yet? You want someone who can actually give you a real challenge?" 

Harrington scoffs. "You’re so full of shit, Hargrove. All cocky and full of yourself, just a big mouth and empty words." 

Billy grins, feeling the excitement rising from his stomach. Finally, a reaction. THIS is what he is looking for.. "Didn’t look like it when I broke your pretty face." 

"Yeah," Steve exclaims, gesticulating with frustration, and Billy feels a satisfaction coil in his chest at the reaction. "With a fucking plate! Because you’re a fucking cheating asshole! Besides, you're one to talk, Mr. High-and-Mighty, stuck in some bed like an eighty year old man! I bet you can’t even go to the bathroom without the help of a nurse."

Ouch. Touché. Billy grimaces, wordless. Harrington is right. He really is not in the position to act cocky. After a few seconds of tense, dense silence, he decides to go for a threat. "Just wait for me to be back on track, Harrington, and we'll have a round two. We will see who’s just 'empty words' between the two of us."

They stare at each other. The tension is palpable. Then, someone at the door interrupts their staring contest.

"For god’s sake! Are you finished here? I really can’t stand this macho bullshit."

A girl is making herself comfortable, leaning up against the jamb of the door, her arms crossed over her chest. Billy and Steve had been so concentrated on each other that they didn't even register the opening of the door.

"He started it!" Harrington whined with a girly, high pitched voice. The blonde just scoffs and rolls her eyes. Billy looks her up and down. She’s not bad. Kinda hot, he supposes. Not that he's interested. Who even is this chick? Is she Harrington’s girlfriend?

"I’m sorry. Who the fuck are you?" Billy asks, flatly. 

She ignores him and stands next to Steve, her arms still crossed and an annoyed but still kind of cute expression on her face. "If he’s babbling this much, he’s fine, dingus," she tells her friend. "Besides, he doesn’t look possessed to me," she adds, staring at Billy, who’s gripping the blankets with an odd feeling of unease.

He doesn’t like feeling this exposed. First the brats, then Harrington, and now this chick. He wants to go home. Well, maybe he doesn’t want his home, but somewhere he can actually gain energy, somewhere the fuck away from all these freaks.

"Yeah," Harrington agrees. "He looks like the same asshole he's always been. Pretty much."

The blond chick points a flashlight into Billy’s eyes without warning, and Billy immediately turns his head with a moan. "Augh! What the fuck? Get that shit out of my face!" he yells. His arms hurt so much that he can’t raise them to protect himself.

"Hmm," hums Blondie. "His pupils are dilated. Photosensitive," she states, like it's a mere scientific fact.

"I dunno, Robin. Maybe because he's been sleeping for two whole days?" Harrington counters questioningly. Finally, Robin stops blinding him with her fucking flashlight. 

"We should try to put him in the bathtub." 

Steve sends her a weird look, but it doesn't last long. "Okay… help me grab him, then." 

"WHAT?!" Billy snaps, horrified. They move the pile of blankets off of him, and he is exposed to a sudden brush of chilled air. Before he can even begin to protest further, Harrington is grabbing him under the shoulders, and Robin has him by his legs. With the movement comes pain. And fear.

What the absolute fuck?! Are they insane?! Why the hell are they maneuvering him around, like he’s some sort of motionless doll?! Isn’t this harassment or something?! Jesus, Harrington really is a fucking creeper, and apparently his girlfriend is, too.

While they’re dragging his strengthless body, Max, Lucas, Dustin, Will, and Mike have returned and are all watching them with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?!" asks Max with surprise. 

"Big boy here… needs to take… a little bath," Harrington explains, panting from the physical effort.

"FUCK YOU, HARRINGTON! I SWEAR I'M GONNA FUCKIN KILL YOU! YOU’RE SO DEAD! YOU’RE SO FUCKING DEAD!"

Billy has started to shout a long string of insults and threats, and the kids are snickering at the ridiculousness of the scene. Finally, that chick Robin and Harrington gracelessly drop him in the bathtub. The water starts to run, cold. Billy, full of pain and burning shame, only notices then that he's not in his normal clothes. Someone must have stripped him down, and now he's just in a white tank top and some loose sweatpants. If it's even possible, he feels even more embarrassed.

His only saving grace, apparent-fucking-ly, is that neither Harrington nor his psycho girlfriend want to take his clothes off. Billy shivers at the sensation of the icy water.

"Goddammit!" he crows. "I'm freezing my fucking balls off!" By now, he's trembling a bit, and his teeth are starting to chatter restlessly, like it will actually help. Instead he just hurts more. Harrington is bent next to the tub, and he’s testing the running water with his hand. 

"Relax, Hargrove," Harrington says mockingly. "It's gonna heat up soon. Be a good boy and be patient." Billy stares at him, still shivering, and he fucking hates Steve. He hates him. Steve will fucking pay for this. Billy doesn't know when or how, but he's going to make it happen.

"You don’t like it cold?" Will Byers asks shyly. Billy didn’t realize the entire nerd herd had crowded into the bathroom. Apparently, everybody's here to witness the shit show.

"No, I don’t fuckin like the cold!" Billy yells angrily, to the Byers kid and to the crowd in general. "I hate the cold! In fact, I fuckin hate Hawkins, and I fuckin hate Indiana!" His voice is higher than usual, despite his anger, but the water is slowly becoming more bearable. 

"Well, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?" chirps Robin, from the side of the tub where she is perched. 

"Um, guys, I think it's a bit too early for celebrations. We should see how he reacts with hot water," Dustin declares, resolute. 

"God, this is fucking creepy," says Billy, but this time his voice comes out weak. 

"Well," says Harrington. "For once in my life, I'm going to agree with Hargrove, here. This is creepy." He turns towards the nerd herd. "Is it really necessary? To have all of you here?" he asks, sounding irked.

"Are you nuts, Steve?! What if the Mind Flayer wakes up again?! We have to stick together and be prepared!" Dustin objects, and his little posse of friends all murmur to each other in agreement.

Billy glares at them, but he’s starting to feel the warmth of the water rising in the tub. And, if he's being honest with himself, it's starting to actually feel pretty nice. He can’t remember the last time he has been in hot water. Though, he can’t remember the last however-many days at all, really. He slowly lowers his head, looking at his battered body. It doesn’t even seem like it's his, anymore. With the hot running water, his muscles are starting to feel soothed. He raises a hand and starts to move his fingers. Harrington is watching him, his gaze oddly entranced by the motion.

"Better?" he asks, after a while. Billy flinches and looks at him a bit sheepishly. He doesn’t want to respond - he doesn't have anything clever or even mean to say. He’s just too tired for all of this shit.

"Guys, I don’t know about you all, but he doesn’t look bothered by the water to me!" announces Steve, tossing his arms wide. Will nods, concentrating his attention on Billy. 

Billy thinks that the kid is kind of creepy. Why the fuck is he staring at him like that? Were his eyes always that… big? Billy decides to stare right back at the kid. Two can play at that game. 

They stare at each other, like that, for a couple of seconds, and Steve clears his throat slightly, looking from Billy to Will and back, his expression rather perturbed.

Finally, the Byers kid breaks the oggling contest and simply says, "He’s not flayed anymore. I can tell. It's not there."

Everyone exchanges glances, and Billy finds himself under even more scrutiny. As if having one weird kid oggling him wasn't enough. "I dunno..." Mike says a bit doubtfully.

"Oh, I know! We should have El control him!" suggests Lucas, and he is immediately treated to a death glare from Mike.

"Hey! El is not a weapon! Don't you remember what happened to her the last time she had to go into his twisted mind?" Mike points a finger towards Billy, who makes an annoyed grimace.  
"Besides," Mike continues, "El doesn’t have her powers anymore. She needs to get them back; she needs to rest!"

The kids start to argue again, very loudly, but Billy is ignoring them. The bathtub is full, and he’s covered in dirt and encrusted blood, so fuck that shit. He makes an attempt to pry off his t-shirt, causing him to moan in pain. 

Steve instantly reaches toward him, grabbing the shirt. "Hold on," he interjects. "Let me help!"

Billy rolls his eyes upward before shouting at Steve, "I don’t need your help, Harrington! Let go of me!"

"Yeah, 'cause you're doing such a great job by yourself," says Steve mockingly.

"Hey! Screw you!" 

"Oh my god! You’re acting like a fucking child, you know that, Hargrove?! What are you, like, five years old?"

"At least I don’t hang out with a fucking gaggle of children! What the fuck is even wrong with you?" 

"Oh, seriously?!"

The argument continues as Steve struggles to attempt to take Billy’s shirt off. The scene is so absurd that everybody is just staring at them, perplexed. 

Robin decides it would probably be best to intervene. "Okay, guys, I think it's time for time-out. Steve, help him, and stop giving him shit."

At these words, Steve gasps, shocked. "That's exactly what I’m trying to do here, Robin! He’s making it impossible because he's a thick neanderthal-idiot-assho--"

"AND," Robin interrupts him, looking over to everybody else, "We can leave them alone. He’s not possessed; he doesn’t need an audience now."

Billy looks at her, slightly surprised. That is exactly what he needs at the moment. He literally wants these losers to fuck off and leave him alone for a moment. He’s weak, ashamed, emotionally exposed, physically exposed, and scared. He doesn't want to show that, and he certainly doesn't want any of these freaks to see him like that.

Everybody gets out, leaving just Steve and Billy. Steve makes another attempt to take off Billy’s wet shirt, but this time he actually manages it, with Billy not resisting his actions anymore.

"Your girlfriend seems pretty smart, if you ask me. How did she end up with an idiot like you?" Billy spits, sourly, looking straight into the other guy’s brown eyes. Steve looks surprised, probably because Billy just called Robin 'smart,' and he doesn’t expect him to be capable of giving compliments. 

Steve's face twists a bit, and Billy can't decipher what that look means. "Robin?" Steve asks. "We’re so not dating," he states flatly, as he puts some bubble bath in the tub. Billy tries to ignore the embarrassment caused by the fact that Steve is really preparing the bath like he’s a five year old kid. "What's it even matter to you?" asks the brunet, giving Billy a strange look.

Billy scowls. "It doesn't."

Steve grabs the waistband of Billy’s sweatpants, but he stops when Billy jolts suddenly. 

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Harrington?!" Billy sounds less threatening and more freaked. 

Steve tries to get a hold on his own embarrassment from the absurd situation. "I’m helping you, dumbass!" He screeches, though not too loudly. "Just-- stop being a child!"

"Who gave you permission to undress me like a fucking damsel?!"

"Nobody. You want to get clean, right?"

Billy looks down at the filth caking him and cringes. 

"Right," Steve says. "You can't do that yourself without causing more pain, so stop fussing. It's me or someone else. You have anyone better?"

Billy stares off to the side, not making eye contact.

"I could go see if Mrs. Byers would help. Or maybe Max? I feel like that would be weird," Steve offers awkwardly.

"Don't you fucking dare!" snaps Billy.

"Okay! Stop being such an ass, then!" Steve is back to the waistband. He pauses for a moment, and Billy is glaring at him with all his remaining energy. The brunet gives Billy a small, malicious smirk. "What’s the problem,anyway, Hargrove? Are you afraid to let me find out the reason you’re always so angry?"

Billy reddens further from shame as well as rage at the implication. Damn, he is going to beat Harrington so bad, as soon as he’s back to being himself.

Billy seethes, "You’re a fucking piece of sh--" but he can't continue, because a quick movement interrupts him, and in a moment he’s totally naked. He gasps and turns towards the wall to hide his embarrassment. He can feel Harrington's flat gaze.

"See? It wasn’t a big deal," says Steve. "Besides, I’ve seen your dick plenty of times after practice, so I don’t know why you're being all shy, all of a sudden. You really are all talk, Hargrove," mocks the guy, and Billy grits his teeth in annoyance.

"Fuck you, Harrington. I’m going to kill you, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah. Are you okay here? You want me to do something else?"

"JESUS, Harrington!" Billy is shouting now, way beyond exasperation. "Just get the fuck out of here! Leave me the fuck alone, goddammit!"

Harrington raises his hands in surrender. "Got it. Give us a call if you die in the tub."

Billy wishes he could point out how utterly ridiculous that is, but he's expended enough effort, and he just doesn't have the energy. He doesn’t want to share another single word with Steve fucking Harrington.

* * *

Steve exits the bathroom, finding a whole crowd staring at him. His neck reddens suddenly, and he feels like an idiot for the brief exchange of mockeries that he had just had with Hargrove. Of course they were eavesdropping the whole time. Robin has her trademark grin, and looks about to say something stupid or embarrassing. 

"What?! What are you looking at?!" he asks rhetorically. He then shoves his way past them. Honestly, the fucking lot of them.


	2. Where did you sleep last night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Thanks for the support!  
> Here is the second chapter.
> 
> Reminder, this is a remake-beta-read-rewrite of my story 'Strange Pleasures' made by Lumina :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> \----------  
> Hey, lovies!
> 
> Lumina, here. So, here's the deal. I went absolutely apeshit with this chapter. I kid you not. Blu's original chapter was, like, 2,800 words or something, and my version of that ended up being extended to a total of somewhere around 6,300 words. And the really crazy part is that pretty much the same stuff happens in both chapters. I very much got back into the groove of writing, and I tend to be very descriptive of the characters, both in action and in emotional response.
> 
> The only big difference in the way that I write for this story and the way that I write for my other stories is that this story is in present tense, since that's how Blu has hers originally, and I wanted to stick with the essence of what she has already written while simultaneously expounding upon it. I tend to usually write in past tense. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you all enjoy reading as much as we enjoyed writing!
> 
> I guess I had a lot to say. :/
> 
> Anyway!
> 
> Love,  
> Lumina

Billy manages to get dressed by himself, and he can't say he isn't a little proud. Yeah, maybe it does take him, like, twenty minutes, but so what? He doesn't have to rely on Steve fucking Harrington to get dressed, and that's what really matters. Mini-Byers (Will - Billy has unfortunately been in the company of Harrington's weird gaggle of children often enough that he does know their names, even if he would rather pretend that he doesn't when Max talks about them) has brought him his brother’s clothes again: another pair of sweatpants and a Ramones t-shirt. Billy takes the offered garments stiffly and without thanks, and he doesn't even comment about the kid's clear awkwardness - better him than Harrington, after all.

Before the younger boy can escape the room, Billy gruffly asks, "Where’s your freak brother again?" 

Will doesn’t seem amused by the callous way that Billy is talking about his brother, but he doesn't particularly look that offended, either. "Work," he explains simply, before shrugging. "He'll be home soon, though." 

"Can't wait," Billy sneers, but then he finds himself caught up in a tangle of thoughts.

Work. How many days has he been out? Would they even let him return to work if he tried to go back? It's not like he called in sick, so as far as they know, he just didn't show up, with no explanation. He doesn't even know what day it is. 

Everything had been so sudden and confusing, and the only thing he knows with any certainty is that he doesn't have the whole story. All he has are flashes of terrible memories that don't entirely connect, and he doesn't feel like examining any of them at the moment, anyway.

He eases his way out of the bed, and he winces slightly as his muscles continue to twinge with each movement. The persistent ache running through his body eased somewhat with the bath from earlier, but it's not gone, just more muted. He takes a step, gingerly, and he comes to the conclusion that his state is significantly better than it was even just after the aforementioned bath, and, well, at least there's that - one good thing in what he considers to be probably the most confusing shit storm of his life. 

He very carefully makes his way over to the door. It creaks when he opens it, and he is immediately struck by a waft of something. His mind doesn't immediately provide him with what it is that he's smelling, besides that it smells really good. His stomach rumbles a bit. He doesn't even know how long it has been since he last had something to eat. 

Determinately, and with very deliberate effort, he follows the scent of food into the Byers' kitchen. The sight that greets Billy is not one which he is expecting: Steve Harrington is standing at the stove with a silicone spatula-scraper in hand, and he's actively laughing at something that blondie chick has said from where she is leaned up against the counter. Billy watches as she reaches out as if to grab the cooking utensil from Harrington's hand, but Harrington just smoothly twists out of her reach, smirking at her. When Billy tears his eyes off of that scene, it's to see that Will and Max are sitting at the table, playing some stupid card game and giggling quietly. Wherever the other brats are, it's not within sight. Billy has heard how loud the small group of mini-teens can be, so he assumes that they probably aren't anywhere in the near vicinity. There's just the four in the kitchen. And Billy. And, really, the whole scene is so happy and domestic that Billy almost wants to puke. 

He looks at them and then at the room. It's familiar but also foreign. The last time he was here, he was waking up on the floor to an empty house, a killer headache, and the remnants of the syringe that Max had fucking stabbed into his neck. 

As Billy is staring at the floor where he remembers waking up all that time ago, movement in his peripheral vision causes him to look up, and he realizes that the other occupants of the room have finally noticed that he's up and about. Harrington catches Billy's eye and sends him what Billy thinks is supposed to be a reassuring smile, and Billy is overwhelmed by a wave of nausea again. 

"You made it!" Steve begins. "We were starting to think that you were passed out on the bathroom floor," he exclaims far too cheerily.

Billy scowls at him, but it's a weak scowl. "Yeah, not happening, pretty boy. Sorry to disappoint you." It comes out as a mumble. Jesus, is he fucking tired. He can't just sleep, though. There are more pressing matters. "Max, what do our shit parents know about all this… This? Whatever the fuck this is," he asks impatiently, waving his hand in the air stiffly. He desperately hopes that the thread of unease and dread that is currently seizing him isn't evident in his voice. That's the last thing he fucking needs. He already knows that he's going to have to face Neil eventually. That's inevitable. Billy has been gone for days, and Neil was very clear the last time that happened: he'd make sure that Billy would regret it if he even so much as attempted to disappear again. Even if Billy has an actual reason for his absence during the past days, even if that reason didn't happen to be batshit fucking crazy (which, it definitely is - Billy doesn't need to have all of the dots connected to know that), it's not like it would actually help him, because Neil wouldn't care. There's not much Billy can do about it, and even if he can't stop the internal fear, he can certainly try his goddamned hardest to not give Neil or anyone else the satisfaction of knowing that the fear is there. 

Max is intelligent enough. Billy knows that. He's fairly certain that she knows something is up with Neil, but he's simultaneously hoping that she does and doesn't know that it's more than just tension. "Uhm, well," she starts, pensively, "I might have told them that you were involved in the Starcourt incident. And that you’re staying at a friend's place while you recover." 

And, yeah. That's why. One part of Billy doesn't want Max to know what's going on, because once she knows, then she's involved, and once she's involved, it won't take much for Neil to decide that she's a flight risk or something, and Billy isn't stupid enough to believe that Neil wouldn't decide that little Maxine is big enough to withstand some actual "lessons." 

On the other hand, there's… this. Billy sighs and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. Max has just confirmed what Billy already strongly suspected: Billy is standing on a landmine, and it's only a matter of time. Whether she knows it or not, her communication with their parents has pretty much sealed his fate. It won't matter to Neil that this whole fiasco is being labeled a huge accident. 

"How are you here?" Billy asks her, and he knows that his words are coming off as curt.

Max simply shrugs, watching him with a slight weariness that Billy can't place. "Steve gave me a lift," is her response.

"And why are you here?" He asks, and it is just as terse as the previous question.

Maxine looks down and bites her lip. "I…," she starts before trailing off, uncertain.

"She was worried about you, dumbass," Steve interjects, and Billy snaps his focus over to the other guy, who is leaning against the counter now, observing the interaction with his trusty sidekick Blondie by his side. Billy instantly glares at him. Did Billy fucking ask for Harrington's opinion? No. No, he didn't. He asked Max. Speaking of which…

"We need to go home," he states, moving his gaze back to his step-sister, who immediately jolts in her seat.

"NO!"

"No?" Billy repeats with a raised eyebrow. Max looks nervous again before she seems to steel herself, and for a second, Billy is looking at the same girl who stood over him with a spiked bat, again.

"You need to rest!" she insists, indignantly. "You’re a wreck!" 

"Geez, thanks, shitbird."

At this, the bravado flees, and the redhead seems to deflate a bit. "Besides, your Camaro…," she starts.

"My Camaro?" he prompts with annoyance when she just trails off.

"Yeah. Uh. It might be… um. Destroyed?"

A heavy silence overtakes the room, and if tension were tangible, Billy is sure that the room would be subtly vibrating with it.

Then, Billy remembers. There's a flash in his mind, of him driving his beloved Camaro towards Nancy fucking Wheeler, who was trying to shoot him. He remembers Steve Harrington in his fancy car, barreling toward him at full speed.

And. 

And, shit. 

Billy's mind is caught. The word 'fuck' is repeating in his head, like a record that keeps playing the same small clip over and over and over again. There's a tightness in his chest, and there's a telltale burning behind his eyes that makes him want to punch through a fucking wall. Instead, he turns his head towards the ceiling, in a pathetic attempt to hide his watering eyes.

Billy can feel the heavy gazes of the other occupants of the room. They are burning into him, and he can feel it like a weight being lowered into the back of his mind. He makes the mistake of looking.

Steve is staring at him, his brown eyes displaying an unbearably sympathetic pity. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his face is curving into a subtle type of frown that Billy can’t stand. And Billy would rather fight. He knows how to hold his weight in a physical altercation. But this? Sign him the fuck out. 

He sighs, trying to collect himself. It takes him a few moments. 

"Okay," he says after a while. Max is looking at him with concern. 

"Okay?" she repeats, like it is the craziest thing that she's heard someone say in a while, and isn't that ironic? But, this is Billy she is quoting, and, in that context, it does make sense. This type of reaction to bad news is not exactly par for the course, when it comes to him. 

"Okay," Billy just says again, and he clenches his eyes shut before rubbing them.

And then Max is babbling. "It’s not a big deal!" she's exclaiming. "I mean, it's totally repairable. It just needs a little work on the car body; that’s all!" 

Part of Billy registers that she's trying to reassure him. And, wow, she must really be worried. But a larger part of Billy just isn't processing much outside stimuli. Without saying another word to anyone, he turns back around and walks on autopilot back to the bathroom, leaving the kitchen in silence behind him.

In the bathroom, he can finally breathe again. He should finally be able to breathe now, right? He feels an overwhelming sensation of unease in his chest as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. He can barely recognize himself. He’s pale, with visible bags under his eyes, and his hair is a level of unkempt that he has not allowed it to be in years.

He stares at his torso in the mirror, watching as it ratchets up and down with every breath that he takes. It's almost hypnotizing to watch. He knows his breathing is faster than it should be, but he also feels detached enough that it doesn't matter. His mind is fuzzy, estranged from his body. It's like a bad acid trip, almost, except it isn't, really. Not at all. And what a strange thought that is.

A sudden wave of nausea hits him, and he lurches over to the toilet, and there's a jolt of soreness in his muscles from the abruptness of the movement. That just makes him even more nauseous, and he's retching into the toilet bowl, his stomach heaving, and something is crawling up his throat, far thicker than the sad bile his stomach is offering up until then. He feels it slide over his tongue, and if he weren't already gagging, he thinks that the sensation alone would set him off. He stares down into the toilet bowl, and he numbly thinks to himself, 'What in the everloving fuck is that?' It's black, he thinks, or maybe a brown so dark that it looks black. And it's… is it fucking moving? Is he imagining - 

There it is again!

Holy shit. 

It is. 

It's lazily moving around, like some fucking shrivelled, possessed, self-sustaining portion of a human intestine. Any of the redness brought on by his retching abruptly drains from Billy's face as he panics, clumsily scrambling away from the toilet until his back collides with the bath-tub. 

There's a weird noise. It's… it's like a strange, strangled sob. For a fraction of a second, panic seizes Billy, because, holy fuck, did that thing just make a noise at him?

But then he realizes that it wasn't the thing that made that strangled sound. It was Billy. 

And normally, Billy knows he would be worried about whether the other occupants of the house heard the sound, but he can't bring himself to care about that at the moment.

That thing was in him. Inside him. Like a parasite. He didn't even know it was there. And there are so many questions, each one more disturbing to consider than the last. Where did it come from? How did it get inside him? Did it even get inside him at all, or did he make that thing? 

Are there more of them?

Is this going to become a regular fucking occurrence (it had better fucking not)?

Is Billy still a human, even? There's no certainty that he is. 

He feels more like himself than he did when he was actively under the control of that fucking interdimensional flesh monstrosity, but that's not actually saying much, all things considered. He still feels… off. There's something different, even if Billy can't yet pinpoint exactly what. 

He stares at the toilet. That thing is still in there. He doesn't want to look at it, yet, so he hauls himself back up and leans against the bathroom sink, inspecting himself in the mirror. He's not crying, anymore. In fact, the desperate sinking feeling has gone away, too. He just sort of feels numb. Detached, like before. He can deal with that. He's still staring at his reflection, trying to make out any differences (exhaustion and redness from crying aside) from what he is used to seeing, when he hears a knock on the wood of the bathroom door, followed by a voice. 

"Hargrove? Are you alive, buddy?"

And, of course it's Steve fucking Harrington.

Billy sneers and throws open the door just enough to glare through at Harrington. "I’m alive. And I’m not your buddy," he corrects brusquely, trying to look like he didn't just get over some sort of sobbing, panic attack, but Steve is looking at him with a frown, and Billy's pretty sure that the redness around his eyes hasn't disappeared in the four seconds or so since he saw what he looked like in the mirror. 

Before Steve can say anything or even get any ideas, Billy barrels ahead. "I need to get home," he announces. "I passed your stupid test, didn’t I? No possession here." 

And, yeah, Billy's not actually one hundred percent sure about that, considering he just expelled a goddamn parasite into the Byers' toilet, but he sure as fuck isn't about to tell Harrington that.

Steve doesn't respond, and he looks like he's internally debating himself, and isn't that just… amusing. It's amusing.

Billy stares Steve down, knowing fully well that if he really wants to leave this place, there's not much that he'll let stop him. What are they going to do, force him to stay?

Even if his house is empty, Billy needs to be there, like, yesterday. The longer he's gone, the more he gets to look forward to a particularly intense 'lesson' from Neil.

"Uhm, okay," Harrington says awkwardly, still scanning what he can see of Billy's visage like he's looking for an injury or something. "I can give you guys a lift," he continues.

Billy looks at him just for a moment, his expression serious and unreadable. 

"Okay," he agrees with little fanfare. "Let’s go then."

* * *

Steve is slightly surprised. He didn't expect Billy to just agree to the ride that quickly, though he supposes that Billy doesn't really have much of a choice, if he truly is adamant about getting home as quickly as possible. Maybe he's too exhausted to pull his usual asshole shtick. At least, that's what Steve assumes.

Billy starts to open the door slightly wider, before he freezes. "Hold on," he says gruffly, and he closes the door in Steve's face.

Steve taps his foot on the ground, and he hears the toilet flush in the bathroom, followed by the sound of the faucet running. Billy opens the door and actually steps out, this time. 

He must have splashed some water on his face, because Steve can see where Billy's hair is now slightly wet where it frames his face, though he did towel off most of the water.

Billy's eyes are a little less red, presumably thanks to the restorative power of cool water, but Steve doesn't say anything about it. He just leads Billy back to the kitchen to get Max. 

Max looks like she wants to protest again, when Steve enters the kitchen with Billy shuffling behind him and announces that she needs to gather her stuff, but she catches sight of Billy, and something in his face must change her mind, because she doesn't say a word. She just helps Will to put away the mess on the table, and then she grabs the backpack that she brought with her to the Byers' house when Steve picked her up earlier. 

"That everything, then?" Steve asks, because he's pretty sure that she had a light jacket tied around her waist earlier, and it isn't there now, but the backpack is big enough to assume that she probably just stuffed it in there. 

She nods her head to him, swinging the backpack around so that it's hanging from her right shoulder.

They all trail out of the house, and Max quietly expresses her thanks to Will, and Will agrees that he'll pass the thanks on to his mom for them. 

The return trip in the car is silent. Billy looks at the passing scenery through the passenger window, and Steve gets the feeling that he isn't actually paying any attention to what he is seeing. His eyes are trained in that direction, yeah, but every time Steve glances over to look at him, Billy's just got an indescribably faraway look about him. 

When Steve pulls up to the house, he doesn't even have the car at a complete stop before the passenger side door is swinging open. Considering the state that Billy was in just a little while ago, Steve is actually a bit impressed at just how quickly the other boy manages to haul himself out of the car, and the entire vehicle jolts a bit with the force of the door being slammed behind him. As Steve watches him storm over to the front door of the house, he hollers, "You’re welcome, asshole!" after him. Not that Billy indicates that he hears anything. Typical.

Max huffs out a little breath of air in exasperation at her step-brother's actions. She opens her door with more care than Billy did, and she turns and dips ever so slightly so she can peer back into the car after she adjusts her backpack. She's leaning down, and her thumbs are hooked around the straps of her bag, pulling it up so it's taught against her back. "Thanks for everything, Steve," she says with a little smile. 

Steve just sends her a little wave of dismissal. "Yeah, don't worry about it," he agrees. "But, hey, let's try to keep in touch, okay? Like, tell me if he shows any sign that he could still be possessed," Steve says, lowering his voice a bit as his eyes flick over to the house, where Billy is loitering on the front stoop impatiently with his arms crossed over his chest.

Max nods her head a bit, her hair swaying forward with the motion. "Consider it done," she chirps. "Thanks again!" With that, she closes the car door and turns to make her way over to her step-brother. As she reaches Billy, the other boy looks back at Steve for a second before flicking his gaze away. Once Steve has seen Billy unlock the door, he eases onto the gas and begins the drive back to his place.

* * *

Steve's thoughts are nagging him. Something was definitely off about Hargrove, and it wasn't just the fact that Steve was pretty sure that the other guy had been, like, sobbing his eyes out or something while he was in the bathroom. Though, that in itself was weird enough, just because it seemed like the last thing that Steve would expect Billy Hargrove to do in any situation. Steve was under the impression that the range of reactions that Billy could have in response to any given situation consisted of being cocky, being loudly belligerent, seething in quiet wrath, or, like, absolutely nothing. He certainly didn't expect the guy to be crying. It made Steve understand why Max had decided to go all mother-hen on the guy. Even if he didn't usually act like it, Billy Hargrove was still human, right? What does Steve actually know about him, really?

Not much, he supposes. 

Steve had, up until this point, just sort of mentally written Billy off as a gigantic douchebag. The guy was a complete asshole, really, so Steve didn't come to expect anything outside of that. Like, Steve's sure he always knew that there had to be more to Billy than just that, but he hadn't seen any real reason to dig any further than what Billy chose to present to people on the surface. But, now, looking back, maybe Steve had been a bit too harsh. First, the guy was possessed, and, as if that weren't bad enough, he then had to wake up in a practical stranger's house, without any memory of the previous days and surrounded by people that he didn't (and probably still doesn't) even like.

Robin had ribbed Steve for not letting up on the guy, earlier. And, yeah. Maybe she was right. Maybe he had been a bit of an asshole, after all.

But, then, another part of Steve just wants to brush off Robin's chastising. So what if Steve hurt the guy's feelings? It's not like he beat the guy's fucking face in, so he's still being a better person to Billy than Billy was to Steve previously. The guy literally gave Steve a concussion. And those cause, like, brain damage or something, Steve thinks. So, there's really nothing to feel guilty about. Billy deserved to be mocked a bit; it wasn’t a big deal.

He takes another sip of his beer, pensive. He’s sitting on the porch, looking over at the dark forest that lines his yard. Like usual, he tries his best to pretend that the pool in his backyard doesn't exist. He hasn't interacted with it since the incident with Barbara Holland. 

Steve found his thoughts once again turning to Billy Hargrove. It was like his mind was stuck on him. 

There was a moment, when Billy was in the tub, right after Steve had roughly undressed him, where the other guy had turned his body towards the wall, attempting to avoid eye contact with Steve, like he felt vulnerable. And Steve had felt something. A rush of adrenaline, maybe? Steve had felt powerful, in a way that he hadn't for a while, not since he was still 'King Steve.' 

Steve shivers. He's not sure how he feels about that. Sure, he has felt powerful with the kids. He feels it every time they turn to him for what to do next, like he actually knows what he's doing. He feels it in the way that they have just resigned themselves to the fact that he's going to do his best to protect each and every one of them, whether they want it or not. That's a power, of sorts. But it isn't the same.

He swallows, trying to distract his mind from the strange sensation. He hasn't been 'King Steve' for a while now, and that's fine. He doesn't need a bunch of nobodies pawing at him like a bunch of sycophants. The friendships he had before… they don't compare to what he has now. They were only as deep as the facade that Steve had put up, and they were just as easily broken. 

He decides to go back into the house. There's got to be a movie on. He'll just click through channels until he finds one. Movies are good. Steve thinks he's had enough time alone with his own thoughts for the night.

* * *

"We’re back!" 

As Max's voice rings out into the house, it comes off as a bit nervous. Billy was hoping she didn't know about what was going on behind closed doors, but now he suspects she might know more than she lets on. Why else would her voice be that wobbly?

The TV is on, Neil and Susan are watching a boring baseball game. Susan gets up and smiles at them cheerfully as they both trudge into the living room. "Welcome back, guys," she says, and Billy notices that Max seems to relax ever so slightly. "Billy, how are you feeling?" Susan asks before continuing, "Max told us that you were involved in that whole Starcourt debacle. What a nightmare! It's been all over the local newspapers!"

Billy swallows uneasily and rubs the back of his neck. He can feel how fucked up his hair is. He hadn't bothered to fix it, earlier, so he knows it probably looks like a bird's nest. "Yeah, Susan… it was dreadful," he says hesitantly, glancing over at Neil, who hasn't looked away from the TV once, as far as Billy knows. "But," he says, looking back at Susan again, "I’m okay. Guess I was just lucky I didn't end up worse." 

Lucky. What a foreign word for his messed up life.

Finally, Neil reaches over Susan to the remote controller, which he uses to turn off the TV. When he turns his attention to Billy, the look on his face spells nothing but trouble. It’s clear that he doesn’t believe a single word of what Billy is saying, but even if it was the truth, Billy knows that his father wouldn’t believe him, anyway. It’s always like that. No matter what Billy does or says, he’s always wrong, with no way out. 

"I’m glad you’re both okay," says Susan, with a small smile. 

Neil, after what seems like an eternity, speaks with a flat voice. "Maxine, Susan, if you don’t mind, I have to speak privately to my son." 

Billy swallows again. Everybody knows what that means. He starts to feel the fear beginning to take hold of him. It's not something new. It's not unexpected.

But Billy never gets used to it.

"Let’s go to your room," Neil says, and while it isn't worded like an order, Billy knows that it is, and he obeys without objection. Neil stands there, as Billy moves, before following after his son. He always does it that way, and Billy hates it.

When he was younger, Neil would originally lead Billy's mom out of the room. It only took one incident of desperate bravery from Billy's mom for that to change. After that, Neil always waited. He would watch and follow behind as his wife would walk to their shared bedroom like she was going to her own death sentence. And, when he couldn't do that to Billy's mom, anymore, he must have decided that his son would do just fine, because when he started on Billy, he used the exact same tactics. He still does. And Billy hates it, because it's always Neil, forcing Billy to lead the way like he has any say, like it's his choice. It's Neil, watching to be sure that Billy doesn't make any move to escape. It's Neil, forcing Billy to have to turn his back to the man who can strike at any moment. 

And Billy feels so small, walking to the room that should be his personal sanctuary, with his eyes glued to the floor and his posture stiff with the worst type of anticipation, knowing that his father is right behind him, cataloging his every movement. When Billy gets to the door to his bedroom, he clenches his eyes closed for just a second as his hand closes around the doorknob. He doesn't dare to take any more time than that. Before Billy is ready (he will never be ready), he's in his bedroom, and Neil is closing the door behind them, clicking the lock into place, his demeanor deceptively loose as he turns to face his caged son.

"Now, I know you don't expect me to believe that bullshit," says Neil, approaching Billy, whose back is colliding with the wall with nowhere left to retreat.

"Dad, I…" Billy mumbles, and he can already feel the tears that are coming, even if his father hasn’t touched him yet. 

Neil doesn't let him finish, simply talking over him. "You’ve been gone for days. Didn't say shit to anyone, did you? Just fucking up and disappeared. And now, here you are. Finally came crawling back," he says, stating it all like it's simply a matter of fact. "I called your manager, you know," he continues in what sounds like a casual tone, but Billy knows better. "Nobody knew where you were. I couldn't get any information from anyone. Then, Maxine shows up with a story about a disaster at the mall, and what a coincidence! And maybe I'd even believe it, too," he says, and Billy sincerely doubts that, but Neil is still talking, "if I didn't know that the shit at the mall didn't happen until it was already later in the day. But you were gone before that all went down. So, I ask myself, what could my fuck-up of a son possibly be doing all day?"

And Billy's thoughts are turning a bit hysterical. _Well, dad, it turns out that I was being possessed by an interdimensional monster that apparently wanted to use me as some sort of fucked-up, murderous meat-suit, and when I was finally able to wake up as me again, I found out that I was knocked out in a stranger’s house for days, and, like usual, no one gave me any choice in the matter._

Yeah, that explanation would just go swimmingly, Billy's sure.

Billy would be lying to himself if he said he didn't know how this is all going to end, because it always ends the same way.

So he just stays silent, facing his father, trying not to cry like the little pussy he is, waiting for the kettle to boil over.

"I know you. I know what you are," Neil says, grabbing Billy by the collar, and Billy thinks, 'this is it,' and he braces himself, only to be met with a dense stretch of silence. Neil is scanning his son, his eyes taking in the Ramones t-shirt and the blue sweatpants. "Whose clothes are these?" he breathes, and it’s clear that the rage is only just being held back.

"A friend's. It’s not what you’re thinking." Billy’s voice is trembling and broken. This time he really is innocent. He hasn’t been… like himself since they arrived here in bumfuck, Indiana. He's known since he got here that he can't afford to be queer here. He knew that, and he was just waiting to finish high school to escape back home and leave his shitty dad and his shitty family in the dust, where he wouldn't ever have to look back.

"You know," Neil says slowly, as he braces an arm against the wall, right above Billy's shoulder. The other arm doesn't take long to follow, securing yet another cage around Billy, trapping him in one more way. "I work hard for this family. This is an honest place," he continues, and Billy knows where this is going, because he has heard this whole spiel from Neil before. He doesn't dare to interrupt, though. "With good people," Neil is saying. "People that still have some values." And, yeah, Billy understands the value of hard work. He feels like he receives a lecture about it like twice a week.

Neil sighs, looking his son up and down. He seems to come to some sort of conclusion, and his voice seems to soften ever so slightly. It doesn't make Billy any less tense. 

"You know what?" Neil asks rhetorically. "It’s my fault," he says. "My fault that you came out this way. I allowed you to spend too much time with your whore of a mother, and she made you a fucking fag, with her absurd hippy ideas." He's shaking his head at his son, but some part of Billy has gone blank, barely registering the following words, even as Neil continues ragging on his ex-wife and his own son. "I should have taken you away from that bitch, away from that whole coast, with their free-flowing ideas and lack of respect for tradition. With a mother like that, raised in a place like that, it's no fucking wonder you turned out to be a faggot."

Something finally snaps in Billy. He can be insulted. He can bear being called a fag. What he can't stand is Neil talking about his mother like that. Like she was less than the dirt under his shoes. So, Billy shoves his father back away from him, his nostrils flared as he breathes through them heavily, his eyes wide, and his pupils dilated. The push is not necessarily a strong one, but it’s enough to take Neil by surprise. Apparently, he didn't expect his son to react. Billy usually didn't, because all it ever did was fuel his father's fury. But the reaction came without thought, just this once.

There is no warning, no signal. All of a sudden, like a switch has been flipped, Neil is on him, laying into Billy. He’s punching his son's face, hard enough to hurt his own knuckles. And normally Neil would hurt Billy. That was a given. But he usually did so in a manner that left Billy with all of the marks, with Neil leaving the incident without even a scratch. Billy hasn't seen his father this mad since he discovered his son sucking another guy off in the back seat of his car.

He hits Billy's face like he has no concern for his own son's life. Billy cries, because, holy shit, it fucking hurts, and he makes a weak noise of protest to his father, a sound that should be too high pitched to have come from him, but which does, all the same.

"You’re a fucking worthless piece of shit!" Neil is sneering, his voice jagged and edged with glass. Billy is on the ground, his arms locked over his head, trying to protect himself in any way that he can. Neil just switches targets from Billy's head to his ribs, though, and it feels just as bad, because Billy can feel the jarring motion jolting his organs the same way that his brain had been just moments before.

Finally, Neil seems to slow down before actually stopping. His chest is heaving as he stares down at his own son with loathing. He shakes his fists out, clenching and unclenching his fingers, like his knuckles are his only real concern, now that he has subdued his own fucking kid. 

"From now on," he begins quietly, "you’re going to work, study, and drive your sister to wherever she needs to go. Nothing else. And if I hear about anything, you'll fucking regret it." He stares at Billy, looking down at him. "You hear me?" he asks. "No parties, no drinking, and, most importantly of all, none of that faggy shit. I raised you to be a responsible, respectful young man." At this point, he starts to lower himself into a crouch so he can look his son directly in the eyes. "I think it's high fucking time you started acting like it," he says, pinning Billy in place with his glare. "Have I made myself clear?!"

Billy is a sobbing mess, but manages to nod. "Yes…" he says, and it comes out weak and garbled, and Neil doesn't seem to like that at all.

"What did I just fucking say? Are you a mouse? No? Because if you were speaking English, it didn't fucking sound like it. So I'll ask you again: Have. I. Made. Myself. Clear?"

Billy huffs out a breath, and he feels the words catch in his throat, but he pushes past the sensation and manages to gasp out, "Yes… sir."

Thankfully, it seems to have been clear enough to satisfy Neil, because he pats his son on the cheek, ignoring the flinch that it earns him, and, after a long, final glare, he exits the room, leaving Billy on the floor, still sobbing, curled up around his aching rib cage, with a face covered in blood.


End file.
